Bagira — Feet Model

At the casino, actually. Dealers notice everything, and I noticed that one regular never looked at his cards when I walked past in heels - he was watching my feet. Later a friend explained what foot fetish is, I started reading about it, and suddenly a lot of looks I had been getting for years made perfect sense. I found it flattering, not strange.

Being watched while I pretend not to notice. Slipping a heel off under the table, letting the shoe hang from my toes, stretching my feet slowly while someone across the room loses track of the conversation. I keep a straight face for a living, so teasing with my feet while looking completely innocent is my favorite game.

Pedicure: black or very dark cherry - against my fair skin and blonde hair it looks like little panther claws, which suits the name. The best compliment I ever got: "your feet look innocent, your toes look dangerous." Shoes: classic black pumps for work, and strappy high-heeled sandals for going out, because they show off every single toe.

Pantyhose, no contest. Sheer black nylons are part of my work uniform, so I live in them five nights a week, and I love how they make my legs and feet look under the casino lights. Socks are for days off on the sofa - fluffy ones, usually with cats on them.

A little at first, I won't lie - after a full shift in closed pumps I know exactly what my nylons are like. But when I see how much someone enjoys it, the embarrassment turns into a smile pretty fast. If it makes you that happy, who am I to argue?

Very. My toes and the soft skin right under them react to the lightest touch - one fingertip there and I lose my poker face immediately. A firm thumb along the sole after a long shift, on the other hand, is pure heaven. I can take that for hours.

Powerful and relaxed at the same time. All night I serve the table and follow the rules, so when someone kneels down and gives my feet their full attention, the roles flip - and I love it. I lean back, stop thinking and just purr. There is a reason they call me Bagira.

Terribly, and everyone who knows me uses it against me. The spot under my toes is the worst - one light stroke and I'm laughing and kicking. I can bluff through a bad hand of cards, but I can't bluff through tickling.

After eight hours standing at the table in closed pumps, my feet are warm, a little damp inside the nylons and so ready to be free. The first thing I do in the changing room is kick my shoes off, press my soles against the cold floor and wiggle my toes. Best feeling of the whole night.

One fan asked me to deal a full round of blackjack with my feet - slide the cards across the felt with my toes and flip them over one by one. It took a few tries and a lot of laughing, but I managed a whole hand. He said it was the only game he was ever happy to lose.

The end of my shift, exactly as it happens. I'd sit down still in uniform, slowly slip off my black pumps, stretch my toes inside sheer black pantyhose, then peel the nylons off and put my bare soles up close to the camera. No script, no rush - just that first moment of freedom, shared with you.